How Much is too Much?

I wrote this post in January 2012. Little did I know that in less than a year I would be traveling to Serbia to touch the children God was just beginning to burden my heart with. My ears were beginning to pick up the whispers of adoptive love God was speaking, I was stirring with anticipation, full of questions. How could I know that it wouldn't just be one child, but many that would capture my heart and motivate me to action. Last year I pondered adoption and loving the needy, this year a ministry to those children is being birthed. God's plan is more stunning than I could have imagined! In 2013 I can only imagine what God holds in store!

Me and a new friend, Dom Veternik, Serbia

Is the cost of adoption really worth it? Lets face it, perhaps more people would adopt if the path of adoption wasn't so grueling. The financial cost alone is enough of a deterrent. An international adoption can be as much as some family's income for the year, reaching twenty five, thirty, even forty thousand dollars. It takes my breath away.

But the cost must be counted far beyond the financial aspect. Traveling across the globe and spending, in some cases, weeks in a foreign country away from family can be intimidating. Far from a sight seeing trip, it's an emotional journey, a heart quest. The red tape must be sliced through, the stacks of paperwork completed, the process is an investment.

Then there are the questions that beg to be answered. What risks are involved? Will there be unseen medical costs when the child comes home? Will the family adjust well, how will the other children transition? How hard will it be to bond with a child that may not even speak our language? Will we involve birth parents and how will that work? The questions and what ifs could fill a book.

Why should we as believers invest in the cause of the orphan? What makes it worth it? Is the cost too great to expect us to become personally involved?

I must admit that in the past not only was I unable to consider rescuing an orphan internationally, I couldn't even look their situation full in the face. Just to identify their pain, to witness at times their sub-standard living conditions cost more than I was willing to pay. But that's beginning to change for me.

In the Old Testament God established laws that provided for the fatherless, widowed and foreigners. With the obedience of these laws came his blessing. In Psalms God describes himself as the helper and defender of the fatherless. He clearly asks his followers to provide care to the poor, helpless and needy of the world. (Ps. 68:5-6, Duet. 10:18, Duet. 24:17-18)

More than recognizing his expectation of action on my part, it's the recognition of action on his that has changed me. "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will— to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves." Ephesians 1:3-6

Do you hear the joy of those verses? It brings him pleasure to purchase us as his own. And it should make our hearts rejoice to recall what we once were and what we've now become, from enemies to sons.

But I'm always amazed to recognize the cost that was counted "before the creation of the world" for our adoption. It wasn't overseas travel, although Jesus did leave his glorious throne and humble himself to an earthly life. Financial resources weren't an issue in our adoption, oh no, it was life blood that bought our sonship. I doubt God asked questions like, will my adopted child adjust to my family, will they have residual expenses or discipline issues, will they get along with my other children, will they bond with me. He already knew the answer to those questions.

Is adoption worth the cost? Ask God, he knows, he can tell you from his own experience. As costly as adoption may be, I guarantee no adoption will cost us what it cost him. It's normal to be intimidated by such a huge undertaking and wise to evaluate the situation with prayer and trusted advisers. I myself, while at times overwhelmed, am excited to press in and understand my own adoption better. I'm eager to know the heart of my Father as he reflects his redeeming love through me. And I have no doubt that as his adopted children commit to adopt the broken and lonely of the world, he will provide the resources. After all he's already provided his own son how could he do any less.

Blue Eyed Boy

His blonde hair had been stroked by a mother, once. That was before the virus had come and stripped his body of it's memory. After the meningitis had had it's way with his brain it then stripped him of what was left; relationship, hope, a future.

The burden of his care had reduced him to the status of orphan. I wonder if his mother cried when he was taken to the institution. Did she go with him and watch as he was placed into the white metal crib that is now the extent of his world? I hope she didn't.

His innocent blue eyes still hold hope, lighting up whenever anyone gets close enough to notice. Little hands reach out through bars, grasping, looking for what's been lost.

He had five healthy years before the sentence fell. His body is still flexible, able to sit with supportive hands, able to reach. Unlike some of the others on his floor. 

They could tell stories, if they could speak. Once they could move and smile, but slowly, over time, they've turned to wood. Like real boys gone unloved turning back into the block of wood they came from. But this isn't a fairy tale, no good fairy coming to break the spell, just day after day of the same bars.

Of course there is one nurse, Lubitza, meaning violet, maybe she is a bit of a fairy, singing and kissing as she tends to needs. But the hands are so few and the needs so great it's not enough to stem the tide, not enough to make up for what was lost.

Blue eyed boy with the golden smile. I'll hope with you for a while and pray this isn't the end of your story. The saddest thing is, I can't remember his name. It bothers me that I can't.  Just one of hundreds of little lives, all who deserve hearing. I think the least we can do is lean in close and listen.

My husband would say I'm obsessed. I have to confess, he's right. I also have to confess, I don't care. I would rather be obsessed with redemption than anything else I can think of. What else is adoption, seeking out the lonely, praying for restoration, than redemption at a human level?

I'm messy at it, and I'm okay with that too.

How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God! For this reason Christ is the mediator of a new covenant, that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance. Hebrews 9:14-15a

Will you join in praying with me for this little one? That God will set him in a family and restore his hope. If you want to know how you can be a part of helping the residents of Dom Veternik please feel free to contact me.

{Update: I returned this summer to the mental institution, Dom Veternik, where blue eyed boy lives. I learned his name is Cedo. He is not available for adoption because his parents still have custody of him. They are unable to care for him due to financial limitations and poor social infrastructure for people with disability.}

Holding My Child For The First Time

Newborn Maggie

I'm linking up with Ellen for her writing prompt; Holding My Child For The First Time. How many of you parents remember holding your child for the first time? I have no doubt most of you moms have a flood of memories, emotions, and images immediately. That first moment, when a child and motherhood are birthed entwined, is a pivotal one. I remember details of that moment from eight and then four years ago that defy explanation; sounds, smells, colors, sensations, numbers, emotions, conversations. Some of you remember those details from decades ago, it's amazing.

I remember the pouring out being more like falling in love than giving up. Relief and wonder flooded my heart as I held my son for the first time, rising as if from the depths of my soul. I remember thinking in amazement, "is this really how God feels about me?" There was humor as we noticed that he looked like a miniature version of his father! And so much thankfulness. The birth of our little pink girl was different. The labor was different, the hospital was different, adding a girl to our family brought a new dimension of delight. Yet so many of the emotions were the same; wonder, joy, gratitude.

As I prepare to travel to Serbia I wonder what it will feel like to hold someone else's child in my arms for the first time. A child that isn't used to being held by a mommy. What did their mommies feel when they held their child for the first time? Were they afraid? Where they sad and filled with longing? Did they feel love? I wonder if some of the children's mommies got to hold their babies at all before they went to live in a long row of cribs with other broken babies.

I think often of the children I will see in Dom Veternik's rooms. But I also wonder about the parents who said goodbye, parents whose hearts still bear the scars. Many of the mother's must have been surprised by their child's disability or illness. The moments leading up to that revelation surely were similar to my own. Picking out baby clothes and a name, the pain of labor and relief of delivery, the joy of becoming a mother. Do they still remember each smell and sound, each sensation and emotion, strange details and every conversation?

I doubt they have forgotten the nightmare of learning that their child was not perfect, the pain of being told it would be better with other's of it's kind and not at home with her. I imagine each will remember that moment until the end of her life, but I pray it won't haunt her. As much as I pray that their disabled children are set free from their captivity of pain and healed by love, I pray that each mother's heart is set free from it's own captivity of remorse and healed by forgiveness.

Won't you pray with me for the healing of the disabled children of Dom Veternik as well as for the healing of their parents hearts?

Different than Expected

Almost five years ago now, when I was growing little Maggie in my tummy, I prayed a strange prayer. I remember telling God that if he wanted to give us a child that had Down syndrome it would be okay with me. Secretly I even hoped he would.

Isn't that strange? To ask for a child with a disability. I reasoned in my prayer that I wouldn't mind at all if my child had Down syndrome, while another parent might find it a burden, "so God why not give them to me", I concluded. You see I had known for a while that children with Down syndrome are a treasure. Whenever I would see one I melted and would stare longingly. I still do.

But God had other plans. We celebrated the birth of a perfectly healthy, wonderfully precious baby girl. I was content, our family complete. I put the notion of having a child with Down syndrome out of my head. For a time.

I don't know if I've ever told anyone of that conversation with God, of that secret desire. It sounded a little strange, even to me, and I'm thoroughly aware of my oddness. The thing is I don't think that longing came from any other heart than God's.

I don't have a child with Down syndrome, and I may never, although it is an ongoing petition. But perhaps God answered that prayer anyway. His solution? If I couldn't have my own then I would make the unwanted ones of the world mine; through prayer, by serving those I can, and one day perhaps through adoption .

It is different than I expected, but I purpose to take joy in all of the precious children and adults around the world who have added a different shade of beauty to our lives. In just a few short weeks my arms will get their fill of little ones with Down syndrome, autism, cerebral palsy, etc. Little bodies needing hugs as much as my arms need to give them!

What in your life has been different than expected?

{I'm linking up with Ellen Stumbo for her Writing Prompt on Mondays.}

A Mother's Day Prayer

A journey into the heart of motherhood is not what I had anticipated years ago. But it's the journey of every woman whether she expects it or not. We women all need nurture and to be nurturers in some way. Society, families, and individuals are better when we confidently embrace our ability to care instead of shy away from a potentially vulnerable role.

I am reminded once again that I have been unspeakably blessed by the mothers who have poured into my life and the lives of those I love. It's a beautiful thing to be caught up in the generational dance of motherhood and find yourself linked arm in arm with past, present, future. To the mothers in my life, biological and emotional, I thank you. 

As I give thanks to you, and to the One who has so richly favored my life, I cannot forget that with high privilege comes high expectation. As I take from you, and raise the next mother in the generational chain, I know that my love has the capacity to stretch farther than my household's walls in an attempt to honor a gift of love I did not deserve. 

My Mother's Day prayer is one of thanksgiving and of longing. As one blessed I seek to bless and pray tonight that God would not forget the motherless and fatherless in our midst.

"Sing to God, sing in praise of his name, extol him who rides on the clouds; rejoice before him—his name is the Lord. A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families, he leads out the prisoners with singing; but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land." Psalm 68:4-6

As usual my heart turns to the weak and vulnerable locked away from sight in Serbia. I long to gather skinny bodies in my arms and smooth tired brows. I ask and trust that God will remember to be a father, a defender, a provider to these helpless ones. Whether a lonely person within our reach or an orphan far away let's use our influence as nurturers to ease the pain of a human heart. 

To all of you who love faithfully Happy Mother's Day!

Baby Steps

There are times in our lives when the love of God collides with the reality of our lives and grabs us by the heart, or at least there should be. A few months ago I began praying a prayer that God has answered in a surprising way. As Chris and I began our new ministry I asked, "God show me your heart. Purify my desires and make me love what you love." His response has been like a tidal wave. I'm being washed pure and I'm learning that what I thought I knew about God, me, and life was just barely the tip of the ice burg.

If you've been following this blog or have had any conversations with me lately you know I've been grappling with God's heart for the fatherless and broken, particularly Serbian orphans. I wrote about it as my heart began awakening to God's voice calling me to respond to that brokenness and pondered what he would have me do. I prayed, I cried, I researched, I talked and the truth became clearer as I listened. What began as a whisper has become a full piece orchestra.

I knew it in my bones. I had to go. Love is compelling me and I can't turn away. On Friday I spoke to the Christian and Missionary Alliance's short term missions office, Envision, about my desire to care for disabled orphans in Serbia. The response was incredibly positive and encouraging, the director heard God's heart and was moved as well. The Envision ministry has never been in this area of the world and doesn't have a program like this in place so we're starting from the ground up.

The first step is evaluating the situation in person. The director will make some contacts and do a little research to find out who would be willing to go with me to visit the orphanages. I should hear back in the next couple of weeks and hopefully we will plan an evaluation trip from there.

I'm excited and prayerful. This is just the first step of a long and difficult journey, a journey that will take me into the heart of dependency on Jesus like I've never known. My hands are aching to stroke human suffering with borrowed love, love that comes from the Father's heart and is not my own. I know too that once I've stepped into a river of grace, reaching out to broken hearts, there's no turning back.

You, my friends, have been such a source of encouragement as I have searched out God's path! Your response has been gracious and your prayers a gift. Thank you! As I baby step past the dreaming stage into doing may I request your continued prayer support? I would so appreciate you joining me in asking God to form the right team to travel to Serbia to evaluate the situation. That God would open doors so that we would have access to the most needy children. That the directors and staff of these orphanages would be open to our offers of help and the love we long to show to the children and staff alike. That government officials would be willing to have us participate in the care of their orphans and would be receptive to the love of Jesus as well. That all of this would happen in a timely manner and that I would patiently trust God to accomplish more than I can even imagine to glorify his name.

Thank you friends! I will keep you posted as God unfolds his plans. I'd love to hear from you. Have you prayed by faith for more of God, for a glimpse into the holy flame of God's heart? If so, how has he responded?

All for Love

My heart wanders the halls of an institution I've never been to. Images of ragged children, too small, and vacant eyed impose themselves over the ordinariness of my day. Brokenness tangible, in flesh and bone. 

The situation for Serbia's orphans is slowly beginning to improve, in the capital city especially. Once closed, the door of adoption for these little ones is opening wider, laws are changing. And yet in rural areas small children are still neglected. Disabled children are denied medical care, deemed unworthy. 

When I look into the eyes of my crying toddler, arms reached to her source of comfort immediately I think of tiny ones with no mommy to cry out too. Left alone in cribs, their hearts sinking in on themselves. As I shush my curly haired beauty my heart whispers to hidden babies, "hold on, I'm coming."

Suffering compels. It's what gets the tennis shoes on and the plane ticket bought, it turns divinity into human DNA, a midnight visit to a manger, finishes the work on a rugged cross. Suffering begs for a response, and we've been set the example. 2 Samuel 22:7,10-11, “In my distress I called to the LORD; I called out to my God. From his temple he heard my voice;  my cry came to his ears... He parted the heavens and came down; dark clouds were under his feet. He mounted the cherubim and flew; he soared on the wings of the wind." Love comes when we call.

My husband says I'm obsessed. He may be right, but I'm not sure I'm ready to apologize for it yet. Without a bit of obsession I would turn back. The hurdles of getting from here to Serbia take my breath away. But, we're on a rescue mission, all of us. And rescue missions are costly, demanding time, money, comfort, etc. In God's case, his rescue mission, his obsession ended in the loss of his Beloved, all for his little ones. So, maybe I'm obsessed or maybe I'm possessed. The heart of the gospel is rescue, my life for yours, love poured out, and that love indwells me, compelling me to imitate.

My dream is to form a team to go to Serbia to touch and care for orphans in any way we can. There is so much to be done. One thing I'm learning about rescue missions; to be accomplished they take unity. Even God's rescue is a partnership, it's the Father's mercy that compels, the Son's blood that covers, the Spirit's power that accomplishes. The same is true for us, missions are accomplished when we unite in purpose and devotion.

Will you join in praying? Pray that doors will be opened to go, people will be moved to join in, and resources will be provided. But mostly pray that we will have hearts like Jesus and that little lives, so broken, would respond to love poured out. Let's pray that the church of Jesus everywhere will reach out in courageous love.

How can I pray for you? Who are you burdened to love, where are your feet taking you in the name of Jesus?

Hope

It's a little scary when God begins to do a new thing. That's where I find myself at the moment, scared of what he may ask, afraid of my own weakness. But there's also hope. The burden for orphaned children in Eastern Europe is not one that God has given Chris, which is okay because God has given Chris his own burdens and tasks, he's given it to me. I pray, and believe, that one day we will adopt. But I've begun asking myself lately if perhaps there's more. What if God has more in mind? What if instead, I'm supposed to go to them? The living conditions of "orphans" and disabled adults in Serbia is appalling. Sadly only a very tiny percent of them are available for adoption. Many will live out their lives confined to a crib in orphanages more like prisons than homes. What if instead of working to bring them here I go there? What if?

How? I ask myself how in the world is an average mommy, who's afraid of flying and loves her comfort, able to make a difference? How does God use people as ordinary as me? The answer is in learning to trust it's God's heart for the broken that moves people to action, it's God's goodness that provides resources, it's God's power that enables small people to join in his big jobs. So I'm straining to hear his voice. Is it calling me? Am I understanding what he's saying? 

In obedience and trust I know I will find the answer. I'm learning God doesn't ask me to overcome obstacles on my own. He's just asking me to obey. One step at a time, following him. He knows the need, he knows the plan. I'm also counting on the obedience of others in the long run, on God moving hearts to action, because together we can be the hands and feet of Jesus, the whole body moving as one. I'd rather plug my ears and say, "I can't hear you". But I've learned that to disobey silences God's voice quicker than anything and I don't want to live like that. So I'm committing to obey, whatever that looks like.

Prayer is the first and most important work of the church. No activity should begin without it. So, the work I'm engaged in for orphans at the moment is prayer. I chose to look full faced into their pain and suffering, to gently speak their unknown names to Jesus, remind him of his little ones, and grieve. Asking on their behalf. I'm praying for Godless countries to be open to Christians caring for the needs of their broken and outcast. Praying for leader's hearts to turn to God in need, for help and forgiveness. Praying for the church to rise up from our comfort and search out the desperate, choosing to love like Jesus even when it costs. I'm praying bold prayers, tearful prayers, constant prayers. I'm starting to think I even pray in my sleep, haunted by hungry little faces needing to hear just once that Jesus loves the little children and has a place for them in his kingdom.

As I pray I'm expecting that God will answer. I'm expecting my heart to change from a hard stone to a beating reflection of God's love. Praying scripture is the best way I know to line my heart up with the Father's. Prayer for believers to be united in the common purpose of love joins my words with God's will (John 14). Prayer for the rescue of the oppressed (Psalm 10), prayer for God's glory to be displayed to the nations (Psalm 102), prayer for my heart to love mercy (Micah 6), all can be found in his word. As I pray I expect him to answer. If I ask but don't believe I've already called God a liar; I'm expecting.

I ask myself questions a lot lately. What if hedging my bets and saving for the future isn't God's best? What if every resource is meant to be spent in love for others, for God's glory? After all, everything I have comes from him anyway. Am I writing a legacy of faith and love for my children with my life and not just my words? Does my life show that I believe God's word, that the last shall be first, the least is really the greatest? Big questions. But I have hope, because God has always been faithful, because he's more generous than I can imagine, because his love is compelling and I want more. What if the best way to be filled up with incomprehensible love is to pour out the love we've already received?

I'm asking myself if I'm willing to touch absolute brokenness with my own hands for Jesus' sake? Today let's ask God how he want's to use us, to help us obey, to give us a burden for prayer, to increase our expectation in his faithfulness!

{If you would like to see a brief video of the conditions in Serbian institutions that have compelled me to ask these questions you can watch here. It is an edited version of a much more detailed documentary by Ann Curry. WARNING: This is a graphic video with disturbing images. I wasn't able to bring myself to see it for weeks.}

The Father's heart

Things have been quiet around here. The kids and I have nestled down, enjoying rainy days inside together as I nurse a cold. I'm thankful for the quiet time, time for resting, pondering, praying.

Have you ever noticed when something has been drawn to your attention and weighs heavily on your mind it crops up everywhere you look? I've experienced that lately.

I have to confess my annoyance over certain passages in the bible in the past. I'd explain them away or ignore them all together. Perhaps I wasn't mature enough to understand or respond, I should have acknowledged my shortcoming but I argued instead.

One such passage is James 1:27 "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."

Certainly "look after" doesn't necessarily mean adopt, there are many ways to be involved in caring for the needy. But I'm learning the closer we come to a need, the more we identify with another's brokenness, the more our hearts are changed. 

Instead of arguing I'm learning. I'm learning caring for orphan's isn't a burden, it's a gift. In seeing ourselves as the spiritual orphans we were compassion flows from a grateful heart. I'm learning that the truth of adoption is at the heart of the gospel and is the underlying message of more scripture than I had realized. I'm learning that partnering with Jesus in faith is always better than arguing with him and protecting our own self interest. Scary stuff!

What has God laid on your heart lately? Are you fighting him or joining him? Praise God for his patience and faithfulness as we learn to listen to his voice!

Five Minute Friday: Connection

It's time to link up with the Gypsy Mama, today we're writing for five minutes on; Connected. 

Go

On the other side of the world are small children without home and comfort, with needs and hopes. Far across oceans and land, waits an orphan that I long to hear call me mama. Their eyes are tilted almonds, their bodies flexible, their little minds challenged, some with heart problems and tummy problems. Down syndrome beauties. 

Between these little hearts and my fast beating one stretches a cord of supernatural love, connecting us. A cord of prayer, a cord of hope, a cord of life. 

The connecting cord holds strong, not because of my flimsy, stary-eyed love. But because of the great, pumping, rhythmic beat of cosmic Love's song. Sung over you, sung over me. And I'm beginning to see it, our Father's love is so deep and wide, so vast, as to embrace the tiny broken victims, the care givers who don't care, and people like me who for years have walked in calloused oblivion.

"The LORD your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing." Zephaniah 3:17

Can you hear his song, singing over you, singing over the orphan, the drug addict, the movie star, the politician, the world? His heart connects us in our great need, in his great love.

Stop 

Chris and I have begun exploring the possibility of international adoption. When I began thinking about adoption months ago I had imagined in-state adoption, due to cost and practicality. However, my heart longs to adopt a child with Down syndrome (DS) and honestly they are hard to adopt in America. The reason being that in America prenatal diagnosis of Down syndrome typically results in abortion or the family chooses to keep the baby. There are waiting lists in America for a DS baby. In Eastern European countries children with Down syndrome are routinely placed in orphanages at birth, they are available and needy now.

This is a God sized task, but one I feel him calling us to. To obey we will need help; prayer, funds, support and encouragement. Will you join us now in praying? We would love your prayer for God's direction and confidence in this matter. We will need a new vehicle as our family grows. And of course there's the cost, which is substantial. I'm excited to see God's provision as he answers prayer and gets the glory for rescuing a precious little one! 

"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." James 1:27

Psalm 68:5-6, "Father to the fatherless, defender of widows - this is God, whose dwelling is holy. God places the lonely in families; he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy."